So, in March of 2007 I was "reorganised" out of my job. Six months after returning from maternity leave - nice eh? On the bright side was a considerable severance package (the way a fucktard employer says "I'm sorry - please leave quietly"); on the not-so-bright side, a lingering feeling of diminished worth.
In July of 2007 I was hired by my present employer - a friend presented my resume to her boss and told him that I was exactly what he needed. Turns out she was right. :)
This workplace has been awesome. I feel useful, professional, and valued. But, there's a catch: To the Competent go the Spoils. They are loading on responsibilities and projects like no tomorrow. And I think we're approaching the realm of "last straw". I'm meeting with my bosses tomorrow and part of that meeting we'll be discussing what they'd like me to be when I grow up. Because, awesome as I am (tongue planted firmly in cheek people), I can't be everything at the same time.
Wish me luck.....
Thursday, September 04, 2008
Friday, August 22, 2008
Carpe diem
A quaint phrase, my title. Almost cliche. Almost.
Last week, I attended the funeral of my 53 year old aunt. Married to my mother's brother, she wasn't a blood relative, but nonetheless, she's been a part of my life for as long as I can remember.
She had been battling ovarian cancer for around 10 years, and as it does, cancer took the final round. She didn't want a funeral, just a memorial mass. So, I stood in the church and watched my uncle say goodbye to his wife.
A new suit - he wanted to look good for her. Make her proud.
Standing beside his son, trying to be strong.
Quietly losing her; his everything. (His words, not mine.)
If anything confirmed my lack of religion and faith, it was listening to the priest tell a grieving family and congregation that the rain falls on the just and the unjust alike. That she had gone to a better place. That they should have faith in God's plan.
I say no.
I want my uncle to know that the love he and his wife shared was enough. There was no lack. I don't want him to think of her away in some heaven, I want him to keep her close, in his heart. I want him to feel her smile and continue living his life, sharing joy and pain with her as long as he needs to.
She was too young to go, she didn't deserve the pain of a terrible disease. But it happened. They dealt with it with love, humour, and great friends - the best they could. I'd rather have my uncle embrace the life they lived, than consign it to an indiscriminate God's plan.
So, go out and seize the day. 53 doesn't seem as far away as it once did.
Last week, I attended the funeral of my 53 year old aunt. Married to my mother's brother, she wasn't a blood relative, but nonetheless, she's been a part of my life for as long as I can remember.
She had been battling ovarian cancer for around 10 years, and as it does, cancer took the final round. She didn't want a funeral, just a memorial mass. So, I stood in the church and watched my uncle say goodbye to his wife.
A new suit - he wanted to look good for her. Make her proud.
Standing beside his son, trying to be strong.
Quietly losing her; his everything. (His words, not mine.)
If anything confirmed my lack of religion and faith, it was listening to the priest tell a grieving family and congregation that the rain falls on the just and the unjust alike. That she had gone to a better place. That they should have faith in God's plan.
I say no.
I want my uncle to know that the love he and his wife shared was enough. There was no lack. I don't want him to think of her away in some heaven, I want him to keep her close, in his heart. I want him to feel her smile and continue living his life, sharing joy and pain with her as long as he needs to.
She was too young to go, she didn't deserve the pain of a terrible disease. But it happened. They dealt with it with love, humour, and great friends - the best they could. I'd rather have my uncle embrace the life they lived, than consign it to an indiscriminate God's plan.
So, go out and seize the day. 53 doesn't seem as far away as it once did.
Saturday, August 02, 2008
Random Internet-tery
So, I seem to be on a blog spiral. I have six or eight blogs bookmarked in my browser, but lately I've been exploring the list of blogs these folks link on their pages. Kinda like an introduction to the proverbial "friend-of-a-friend". I've ended up in the strangest places...
A gay gentleman in Quebec linked me to a recent identity scandal, where a blogger claimed to be someone they were not. Not exactly surprising in the most general of scopes, but this deception seemed to have been quite far reaching and complex. When someone falls in love with a persona and individuals are moved to send presents and gifts for fictional children, you know hearts and spirits are going to be bruised when the truth outs.
In guise of father and parent, this person wrote of his experiences and dreams; or rather, plagiarized the writing and images of another. In a stunning display of bad judgement, not surprising given the trend so far, this person plagiarized blog components from a women struggling with the death of her infant son. A lovely writer, laying her pain bare as part of healing and living...
Last night, I read posts from her blog and the blogs of others she links - tears pouring down my face. Suddenly grateful and terrified for the two-and-a-half year old Hamlet, snoozing blissfully in the next room. Anxious for two close friends who are due this year: one in September and one in November. Remembering with cold clarity that moment in the delivery room, as they frantically prepped me for an emergency c-section, where I thought "Is this where it goes wrong? After 9 months; it is here where the world changes?"
I will return to some of these new places I've discovered, if for no other reason than to enjoy the writing of someone writing with focus, with grace, with humour.
A gay gentleman in Quebec linked me to a recent identity scandal, where a blogger claimed to be someone they were not. Not exactly surprising in the most general of scopes, but this deception seemed to have been quite far reaching and complex. When someone falls in love with a persona and individuals are moved to send presents and gifts for fictional children, you know hearts and spirits are going to be bruised when the truth outs.
In guise of father and parent, this person wrote of his experiences and dreams; or rather, plagiarized the writing and images of another. In a stunning display of bad judgement, not surprising given the trend so far, this person plagiarized blog components from a women struggling with the death of her infant son. A lovely writer, laying her pain bare as part of healing and living...
Last night, I read posts from her blog and the blogs of others she links - tears pouring down my face. Suddenly grateful and terrified for the two-and-a-half year old Hamlet, snoozing blissfully in the next room. Anxious for two close friends who are due this year: one in September and one in November. Remembering with cold clarity that moment in the delivery room, as they frantically prepped me for an emergency c-section, where I thought "Is this where it goes wrong? After 9 months; it is here where the world changes?"
I will return to some of these new places I've discovered, if for no other reason than to enjoy the writing of someone writing with focus, with grace, with humour.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Guilty pleasure
So, I'm assuming you've Google'd someone? Used a proper name as a search to see if you get any hits? Find out what someone is up to, where they're located?
In a wanton display of unhealthy acts, I sometime Google my husband's whackjob ex-girlfriend (y'know, to see if it's time to move or anything). Last week, I decided to give up this practice because I found something that made me happy - a picture of the aforementioned whackjob, and she's now fat.
Like "round to the ground" fat. Wearing an "I give up" polyester skirt and shoes that my grandma would consider "too frumpy". My thimble runneth over.
I think I'll just give up this unhealthy habit....why spoil a good thing?
Don't judge, people - this woman walking the planet brings us all down a notch. Any heartache or misfortune she's experiences, she probably had a hand in orchestrating.
In a wanton display of unhealthy acts, I sometime Google my husband's whackjob ex-girlfriend (y'know, to see if it's time to move or anything). Last week, I decided to give up this practice because I found something that made me happy - a picture of the aforementioned whackjob, and she's now fat.
Like "round to the ground" fat. Wearing an "I give up" polyester skirt and shoes that my grandma would consider "too frumpy". My thimble runneth over.
I think I'll just give up this unhealthy habit....why spoil a good thing?
Don't judge, people - this woman walking the planet brings us all down a notch. Any heartache or misfortune she's experiences, she probably had a hand in orchestrating.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
New Song on the Playlist
Sunday afternoon, drinking coffee with Mr. Hammy whilst Hamlet naps. Through the baby monitor, I hear the sounds of a stirring toddler, who decides to try out some new material.
"SHOT 'FREW THE HEART, AND YOU'RE TO BWAME!....BAD NAME!"
Mr. Hammy and I look at each other, "Is that? Did I hear? Did you hear?"
"SHOT 'FREW THE HEART, AND YOU'RE TO BWAME!....BAD NAME!"
This goes on for several minutes; just this one line, evoking memories of big hair and high school dances. From my 2.5 year old son.
"SHOT 'FREW THE HEART, AND YOU'RE TO BWAME!....BAD NAME!"
Mr. Hammy and I look at each other, "Is that? Did I hear? Did you hear?"
"SHOT 'FREW THE HEART, AND YOU'RE TO BWAME!....BAD NAME!"
This goes on for several minutes; just this one line, evoking memories of big hair and high school dances. From my 2.5 year old son.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Lullabye and goodnight
I sing to Hamlet every night. I like to sing and have a passable voice, so I'm trying to pass on that love of music to my son. He now makes requests:
"Mommy, you sing Cars song."
"Honey, Mommy is not Cheryl Crow."
"You try Mommy." He pats my shoulder, "You try." And because he is my pup, my love, I try.
"Mommy, you sing We Will Rock You."
Because his babysitter plays what she calls "Jock Jams" and We Will Rock You makes an appearance at every hockey game ever played...this is now on the playlist.
"Mommy, you sing Dreamland." There's a place, way up high, starry bright there through the night there...
And then there are the songs I sing to Hamlet that someone once sang to a smaller, younger Hammy.
When I was a child, it was a grand treat for me to spend the night at my grandparent's house. They lived across town, and my Pops worked nights. So, I sometimes stayed "to keep Nan company". I would snug down in her big bed and ask her to sing me to sleep.
"Oh, honey you don't want to hear my scratchy old voice." (For posterity, my Nan was 40 when I was born.)
"Yes, I do!"
And because she couldn't refuse me, because her heart was mine and we both knew it, she sang:
You climbed up on my knee
You're all the world to me
You're mine from head to toe
That little girl of mine
No one will ever know, just what your coming has meant
But I love you so, you're something heaven must have sent....
I was in heaven, and all was right in my world.
So, as I write this, wishing I could hear my Nan's voice one more time, I hear Hamlet in his crib...
(We will, we will rock you! Buddy you're a strong man!)...and hope that he always remembers how his Mommy sang to him.
"Mommy, you sing Cars song."
"Honey, Mommy is not Cheryl Crow."
"You try Mommy." He pats my shoulder, "You try." And because he is my pup, my love, I try.
"Mommy, you sing We Will Rock You."
Because his babysitter plays what she calls "Jock Jams" and We Will Rock You makes an appearance at every hockey game ever played...this is now on the playlist.
"Mommy, you sing Dreamland." There's a place, way up high, starry bright there through the night there...
And then there are the songs I sing to Hamlet that someone once sang to a smaller, younger Hammy.
When I was a child, it was a grand treat for me to spend the night at my grandparent's house. They lived across town, and my Pops worked nights. So, I sometimes stayed "to keep Nan company". I would snug down in her big bed and ask her to sing me to sleep.
"Oh, honey you don't want to hear my scratchy old voice." (For posterity, my Nan was 40 when I was born.)
"Yes, I do!"
And because she couldn't refuse me, because her heart was mine and we both knew it, she sang:
You climbed up on my knee
You're all the world to me
You're mine from head to toe
That little girl of mine
No one will ever know, just what your coming has meant
But I love you so, you're something heaven must have sent....
I was in heaven, and all was right in my world.
So, as I write this, wishing I could hear my Nan's voice one more time, I hear Hamlet in his crib...
(We will, we will rock you! Buddy you're a strong man!)...and hope that he always remembers how his Mommy sang to him.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
You travel for work? How exciting!
Except that it's not.
It's lonely, and who knew I'd ever get tired of having someone else cook my meals? Seriously, you can only eat in restaurants so much before you start craving things like granola bars and cheerios.
Oddly enough, it also means that the line between "work" and "not work" becomes even more blurred. I find I put in longer hours, over and above the work I'm actually travelling to accomplish, because I can work until midnight without sacrificing my "real life". Meaning, time with Mister Hammy and Hamlet.
And I'm also struggling with the fact that Hamlet is old enough to both a) miss his Mommy, and b) tell me about it. He's almost 2 and 1/2, so it goes something like:
"Hi Mommy! You take the red car to Nova Scotia."
"Yes buddy, I'm working in Nova Scotia. Are you taking care of Daddy and the boxergirlies?"
"Mommy, I watchin' Diego!"
"That's great pup - who is he yelling at in Spanish today?"
"Leatherback sea turtles Mommy. Mommy I miss you. Mommy I love you. Bye Mommy!"
Sigh.
It's lonely, and who knew I'd ever get tired of having someone else cook my meals? Seriously, you can only eat in restaurants so much before you start craving things like granola bars and cheerios.
Oddly enough, it also means that the line between "work" and "not work" becomes even more blurred. I find I put in longer hours, over and above the work I'm actually travelling to accomplish, because I can work until midnight without sacrificing my "real life". Meaning, time with Mister Hammy and Hamlet.
And I'm also struggling with the fact that Hamlet is old enough to both a) miss his Mommy, and b) tell me about it. He's almost 2 and 1/2, so it goes something like:
"Hi Mommy! You take the red car to Nova Scotia."
"Yes buddy, I'm working in Nova Scotia. Are you taking care of Daddy and the boxergirlies?"
"Mommy, I watchin' Diego!"
"That's great pup - who is he yelling at in Spanish today?"
"Leatherback sea turtles Mommy. Mommy I miss you. Mommy I love you. Bye Mommy!"
Sigh.
Sunday, May 04, 2008
I remember, I started this for a reason
I read the blogs of others, but I do not blog.
I remember I wanted to have a venue to work things out; a safer haven than the paper process (yes, I was once traumatized by a family member reading my diary). I don't think that need has gone away.
The last year and a half have been the hardest of my life. Everything I believed about myself, personal and professional, was taken away. And I have had to search for the bits of myself, my real self, and painstakingly pull it together.
It sucked. Hard.
Call me cliche, but I feel like the pheonix - burn me to ashes, then burn the ashes. Fire streaks to the sky and I am reborn.
So, the present loveliness of my life should be doubly celebrated. Hamlet is 29 months old, beautiful and bright. He shines, does my lad. He deserves a Mommy who looks to the future. Mr. Hammy and I love with the knowledge that we came too close to losing everything; our family and ourselves. Love is hard and fraught with responsibility - i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) i am never without it (anywhere i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling).
This week, after some work craziness and a certification exam, I'm hoping to push the "reset" button on some of my priorities. Physical fitness being one; perhaps mental fitness is another? I think this blog could be part of that - a spot to work out the things in my head before they spill over into life and damage what I've built.
Hey, you gotta start somewhere.
I remember I wanted to have a venue to work things out; a safer haven than the paper process (yes, I was once traumatized by a family member reading my diary). I don't think that need has gone away.
The last year and a half have been the hardest of my life. Everything I believed about myself, personal and professional, was taken away. And I have had to search for the bits of myself, my real self, and painstakingly pull it together.
It sucked. Hard.
Call me cliche, but I feel like the pheonix - burn me to ashes, then burn the ashes. Fire streaks to the sky and I am reborn.
So, the present loveliness of my life should be doubly celebrated. Hamlet is 29 months old, beautiful and bright. He shines, does my lad. He deserves a Mommy who looks to the future. Mr. Hammy and I love with the knowledge that we came too close to losing everything; our family and ourselves. Love is hard and fraught with responsibility - i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) i am never without it (anywhere i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling).
This week, after some work craziness and a certification exam, I'm hoping to push the "reset" button on some of my priorities. Physical fitness being one; perhaps mental fitness is another? I think this blog could be part of that - a spot to work out the things in my head before they spill over into life and damage what I've built.
Hey, you gotta start somewhere.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
A quiet moment
It's quiet. Hamlet is in bed. Mr. Hammy is out with his buddies.
Holy crap, now what?
This summer has been so busy, it feels as if I haven't had time to turn around. New job at the beginning of July; found out that my grandmother has lymphoma in mid-July; Hamlet's christening at the end of July. Visiting family in Ontario at the beginning of August. Home on the 19th, crazy week at work, and here I am.
Things have been rough. I'm still carrying around a lot of baggage from the professional and personal kickings I underwent in the last part of 2006, beginning of 2007. It feels as if I work every day to keep myself on track. The voice in my head has to be coached and I find I have to be vigilant about where my thoughts are taking me. Listening to the timbre of my internal and external responses to determine where they are coming from...am I upset because of something that is happening, or carrying around responses from things that have already happened. It's exhausting.
But I think I'm moving toward a better life; a better me.
Some of that has to do with how I'm dealing with people in my life. I said to a friend a little while ago, that my relationship with my mother is so tumultuous because I have this nagging feeling that if I just say the right thing, make the right argument, that the light will finally shine and she'll say "Oh!" And I'll finally have the connection I want, and she'll finally have the life she deserves. But I'm realising that life is not like that. Her choices are her own, and I have to establish boundaries that protect me and my heart. It's hard and it feels like giving up, but I am tired of brokering our relationship. I'm tired of being the kid who has done everything right, and gets screwed because I can take care of myself. Apparently, I should have been more of a fuck-up and then perhaps I'd've been heard. My mother of course denies this. She was overwhelmed when I was young, and did the best she could, she says. That's well and good, but in my mind, that doesn't absolve her of the repercussions of those choices. Hardship is not a free pass.
And so.
Work is good. Home is good. They both have feelings of anxiety attached, but I can work on that. And time doesn't necessarily heal, but it does build new experiences to overshadow the old.
Holy crap, now what?
This summer has been so busy, it feels as if I haven't had time to turn around. New job at the beginning of July; found out that my grandmother has lymphoma in mid-July; Hamlet's christening at the end of July. Visiting family in Ontario at the beginning of August. Home on the 19th, crazy week at work, and here I am.
Things have been rough. I'm still carrying around a lot of baggage from the professional and personal kickings I underwent in the last part of 2006, beginning of 2007. It feels as if I work every day to keep myself on track. The voice in my head has to be coached and I find I have to be vigilant about where my thoughts are taking me. Listening to the timbre of my internal and external responses to determine where they are coming from...am I upset because of something that is happening, or carrying around responses from things that have already happened. It's exhausting.
But I think I'm moving toward a better life; a better me.
Some of that has to do with how I'm dealing with people in my life. I said to a friend a little while ago, that my relationship with my mother is so tumultuous because I have this nagging feeling that if I just say the right thing, make the right argument, that the light will finally shine and she'll say "Oh!" And I'll finally have the connection I want, and she'll finally have the life she deserves. But I'm realising that life is not like that. Her choices are her own, and I have to establish boundaries that protect me and my heart. It's hard and it feels like giving up, but I am tired of brokering our relationship. I'm tired of being the kid who has done everything right, and gets screwed because I can take care of myself. Apparently, I should have been more of a fuck-up and then perhaps I'd've been heard. My mother of course denies this. She was overwhelmed when I was young, and did the best she could, she says. That's well and good, but in my mind, that doesn't absolve her of the repercussions of those choices. Hardship is not a free pass.
And so.
Work is good. Home is good. They both have feelings of anxiety attached, but I can work on that. And time doesn't necessarily heal, but it does build new experiences to overshadow the old.
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Hear that?
Me neither.
EVERYONE HAS GONE HOME!!!
OH BABY THE SILENCE!!!!!
(more later-tired of communicating)
xo
EVERYONE HAS GONE HOME!!!
OH BABY THE SILENCE!!!!!
(more later-tired of communicating)
xo
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Can't talk now...
We christened Hamlet on Friday, we've been inundated by family and friends, my mother and my aunt are here until Tuesday....
...pray for me....
...pray for me....
Monday, July 23, 2007
What day is it??
Okay, I have to say it - I love my new job.
#1 - I have an actual office. Seriously, after working in a cubicle for...say....holy fuck almost 10 years, it's an amazing thing to be able to shut the world out when you need to think or have a 2 hour conference call.
#2 - My boss actually seems interested in me, my opinions, and my professional development. I'm gobsmacked. Not to mention that the executive in charge of health & safety is one of the founders of the company who I've spoken to more times in the past 3 weeks than I did in the last 6 months to my shit-eating, upwardly mobile middle manager at my previous job.
#3 - I'm getting an assistant.
#4 - I'm getting an assistant. (Nope, I meant to do that - so nice I typed it twice.)
#5 - I wore jeans to the office on Friday. That may not mean much to some of you, but in my last company "casual Friday" meant "no blazer with my dress pants".
Not to mention that despite being with the company only weeks, they are honouring the travel plans for August that I made waaaay back in January.
They are working my ass off though. But it actually seems like I'm accomplishing something and working for a purpose instead of the perpetual stream of other people's fuck-ups that was my daily bread a few short months ago.
Moral of the story - Getting fired (oh, sorry, reorganised) can be the best thing that happens to you.
On the homefront, my Mom and Aunt are arriving tomorrow for a visit. We are "Christening" Hamlet on Friday under some pressure from both our mothers. However, under the heading of "you can tell me what to do or how to do it, but not both", Hamlet's christening will be performed by the Salvation Army minister who lives next door to us. We will be saying the words in our very own backyard, with Hamlet's lesbian godmommies standing proudly by.
Faith on my own terms, or not at all.
Take that higher being.
#1 - I have an actual office. Seriously, after working in a cubicle for...say....holy fuck almost 10 years, it's an amazing thing to be able to shut the world out when you need to think or have a 2 hour conference call.
#2 - My boss actually seems interested in me, my opinions, and my professional development. I'm gobsmacked. Not to mention that the executive in charge of health & safety is one of the founders of the company who I've spoken to more times in the past 3 weeks than I did in the last 6 months to my shit-eating, upwardly mobile middle manager at my previous job.
#3 - I'm getting an assistant.
#4 - I'm getting an assistant. (Nope, I meant to do that - so nice I typed it twice.)
#5 - I wore jeans to the office on Friday. That may not mean much to some of you, but in my last company "casual Friday" meant "no blazer with my dress pants".
Not to mention that despite being with the company only weeks, they are honouring the travel plans for August that I made waaaay back in January.
They are working my ass off though. But it actually seems like I'm accomplishing something and working for a purpose instead of the perpetual stream of other people's fuck-ups that was my daily bread a few short months ago.
Moral of the story - Getting fired (oh, sorry, reorganised) can be the best thing that happens to you.
On the homefront, my Mom and Aunt are arriving tomorrow for a visit. We are "Christening" Hamlet on Friday under some pressure from both our mothers. However, under the heading of "you can tell me what to do or how to do it, but not both", Hamlet's christening will be performed by the Salvation Army minister who lives next door to us. We will be saying the words in our very own backyard, with Hamlet's lesbian godmommies standing proudly by.
Faith on my own terms, or not at all.
Take that higher being.
Monday, July 02, 2007
Good thoughts needed - back to the grind
Okay, so I'm starting my new job tomorrow after being home for 3 1/2 months. The ending with my last employer was ugly and drawn-out with the results being a significant severance package ("we're sorry we fucked with you, will you go quietly?") and a thoroughly battered self-esteem.
The self-esteem part has undergone some hefty repairs - ironically assisted by the application and interview process. At one point, I had two competing job offers and was at the third stage of interviewing for a third position. Nothin' like love to make you feel better eh?
But the reality is, I'm still a bit nervous for tomorrow. New job, new responsibilities, new schedule, new demands.... Hammy's wheel indeed.
Wish me luck. Or rather, wish me talent... :)
The self-esteem part has undergone some hefty repairs - ironically assisted by the application and interview process. At one point, I had two competing job offers and was at the third stage of interviewing for a third position. Nothin' like love to make you feel better eh?
But the reality is, I'm still a bit nervous for tomorrow. New job, new responsibilities, new schedule, new demands.... Hammy's wheel indeed.
Wish me luck. Or rather, wish me talent... :)
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
When the world is running down...
Okay, so many things were whirring around in my head this morning. We are meeting with our lawyer tomorrow to discuss the next steps in this bizarre child-support thing, a response to the papers filed with the court system filled with half-truths and flat-out lies.
I have always found that putting something down on paper allows me some distance and freedom from situations that are tormenting me - probably why I've returned to this blog; a virtual outlet trading writer's cramp for carpal tunnel. So I put into a document all the responses Mr. Hammy and I have been tossing back and forth over the weekend. And it seems to have worked - I feel better and there's nothing in the back of my head insistently tapping, "Hammy, don't forget to tell him this."
I am hoping that speaking to our lawyer tomorrow will give me some peace; I'm a girl who needs a plan. As long as I know where we're headed, I'm okay but uncertainty can throw me for a big loop.
And I'm going to have to get better at moderating my responses to this type of stuff. I can't let these intrusions throw me, make me sad, bring up things that I've already worked through and accepted. A good friend of mine, who is a lawyer, gently reminded me that issues of family law can take years to resolve. And if that's the case, so be it. Hey, if it goes on long enough at least we'll be able to give the money directly to the boy instead of his shit-crazy mother.
Ah me, a silver lining....
I have always found that putting something down on paper allows me some distance and freedom from situations that are tormenting me - probably why I've returned to this blog; a virtual outlet trading writer's cramp for carpal tunnel. So I put into a document all the responses Mr. Hammy and I have been tossing back and forth over the weekend. And it seems to have worked - I feel better and there's nothing in the back of my head insistently tapping, "Hammy, don't forget to tell him this."
I am hoping that speaking to our lawyer tomorrow will give me some peace; I'm a girl who needs a plan. As long as I know where we're headed, I'm okay but uncertainty can throw me for a big loop.
And I'm going to have to get better at moderating my responses to this type of stuff. I can't let these intrusions throw me, make me sad, bring up things that I've already worked through and accepted. A good friend of mine, who is a lawyer, gently reminded me that issues of family law can take years to resolve. And if that's the case, so be it. Hey, if it goes on long enough at least we'll be able to give the money directly to the boy instead of his shit-crazy mother.
Ah me, a silver lining....
Monday, June 25, 2007
Sooo tired of this shit
So my husband's crazy-ex filed court papers for child support (after 14 years I might add), but has refused to participate in a paternity test. Her written document read like "sainted mother done wrong by callous male" instead of the more appropriate "fucking whackjob wants to get paid for the screwing, physical and mental".
We visit our lawyer this week to say "WTF?"
I'm so tired of having to deal with this crap.
We visit our lawyer this week to say "WTF?"
I'm so tired of having to deal with this crap.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
It's been awhile...
And I have to tell you that the end of 2006, beginning of 2007 was the worst period of my life. And I 've been struggling on how to "get up to date" here - do I rehash the whole thing?
The shitpile of counselling and coaching I've been through in the aforementioned time period says "nope - just move on". So that's what I'm going to do.
My son, the handsome Hamlet is 18 months old. Happy, healthy, freakin' cute.
My husband and I are looking to build our dream home in May of 2008 - we'll be able to hear the ocean as we go to sleep and walk down to the beach from our back door.
I start a new job with a highly-rated company on July 3rd.
If crap comes up that seems out of context, just tell yourself "oh, that must be part of the Dark Days O'Hammy".
Cheers.
The shitpile of counselling and coaching I've been through in the aforementioned time period says "nope - just move on". So that's what I'm going to do.
My son, the handsome Hamlet is 18 months old. Happy, healthy, freakin' cute.
My husband and I are looking to build our dream home in May of 2008 - we'll be able to hear the ocean as we go to sleep and walk down to the beach from our back door.
I start a new job with a highly-rated company on July 3rd.
If crap comes up that seems out of context, just tell yourself "oh, that must be part of the Dark Days O'Hammy".
Cheers.
Friday, August 18, 2006
Where am I NOW??
Busy busy summer. Both Mr. Hammy and I have been off work (maternity leave for me, teacher's life for him), so we've been running the roads with BabyHammy practicing this "being a family" stuff. It's going to take me a while to catch up, so bear with me.
My last post had to do with the impending visit of my Mom and her sister. My Mom was estatic to see Hamlet and spend time with him. She couldn't wait until he got up in the morning and was ready there for bathtime at night. She is so proud and happy about this little guy, so could just burst. It's a lovely thing to see.
My aunt was also very excited about being here and spending time with us. This trip was the first flight she'd ever taken on her own, and she was apprehensive, but she got here. She brought a visitor with her as well; a not very welcome guest named "Alchoholism".
Now my aunt has always been a heavy drinker. Hit it hard Friday night after work and continue on until you have to go to be Sunday night. Her's is an addictive, destructive personality - various drugs while growing up, issues with eating disorders, smoking, etc. The archetypical factory-worker, barely-educated existance. I always thought that the drinking was a weekend event, until about 10 years ago.
I was still living in my hometown and my aunt showed up at my grandmother's house after work on a Friday night - as usual. She pulled a plastic baggie out of her glove compartment full of those small airline booze bottles; there were 8-10 and they were empty. I asked her what they were for and she airily explained, "They were for work today."
I lost the plot. Called her all sorts of unflattering things (she worked in a factory with heavy rollers and machinery). Told her she needed help if she thought this was okay. I was angry; she was upset. I was thoroughly scolded by my grandfather (I'm pretty sure he was pushed by my grandmother) for "making her feel bad". "Good." I said. "I'd rather she feel bad than dead." But nothing changed and I moved from the province a short time after that.
Now those people are all gone, including my aunt's husband who died earlier this year. So she's a 48 year old widow, used to making excuses for her own behaviour, who is drinking herself to death.
She was at our house for 11 days. She consumed 5.0 litres of rye in that time.
By 11am each morning her hands were shaking. The first drink of the day was always before noon. I confronted her on the second day and she pulled the whole sob story, "my husband just died" blah blah blah. Don't think me heartless, she can't convince me that this volume is recent. As I told her "You have to practice a long time to drink like that." My efforts only slowed her down...somewhat.
Scary stuff. And as you might imagine, not the most relaxing visit for my mother or myself.
My last post had to do with the impending visit of my Mom and her sister. My Mom was estatic to see Hamlet and spend time with him. She couldn't wait until he got up in the morning and was ready there for bathtime at night. She is so proud and happy about this little guy, so could just burst. It's a lovely thing to see.
My aunt was also very excited about being here and spending time with us. This trip was the first flight she'd ever taken on her own, and she was apprehensive, but she got here. She brought a visitor with her as well; a not very welcome guest named "Alchoholism".
Now my aunt has always been a heavy drinker. Hit it hard Friday night after work and continue on until you have to go to be Sunday night. Her's is an addictive, destructive personality - various drugs while growing up, issues with eating disorders, smoking, etc. The archetypical factory-worker, barely-educated existance. I always thought that the drinking was a weekend event, until about 10 years ago.
I was still living in my hometown and my aunt showed up at my grandmother's house after work on a Friday night - as usual. She pulled a plastic baggie out of her glove compartment full of those small airline booze bottles; there were 8-10 and they were empty. I asked her what they were for and she airily explained, "They were for work today."
I lost the plot. Called her all sorts of unflattering things (she worked in a factory with heavy rollers and machinery). Told her she needed help if she thought this was okay. I was angry; she was upset. I was thoroughly scolded by my grandfather (I'm pretty sure he was pushed by my grandmother) for "making her feel bad". "Good." I said. "I'd rather she feel bad than dead." But nothing changed and I moved from the province a short time after that.
Now those people are all gone, including my aunt's husband who died earlier this year. So she's a 48 year old widow, used to making excuses for her own behaviour, who is drinking herself to death.
She was at our house for 11 days. She consumed 5.0 litres of rye in that time.
By 11am each morning her hands were shaking. The first drink of the day was always before noon. I confronted her on the second day and she pulled the whole sob story, "my husband just died" blah blah blah. Don't think me heartless, she can't convince me that this volume is recent. As I told her "You have to practice a long time to drink like that." My efforts only slowed her down...somewhat.
Scary stuff. And as you might imagine, not the most relaxing visit for my mother or myself.
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Bracing for impact
My mother arrives this afternoon. We're excited as she hasen't seen Hamlet, her one and only grandchild, since January when he was mere weeks old. He's now almost 7 months and a vigorous personality in his own right.
Her sister (E) has also decide to come along - I have mixed feelings about this. My mother's sister is also my godmother. She was 15 when I was born and the baby of her family. Perhaps my mom wanted to include her in the much-anticipated birth of the first grandchild/neice? I've never asked my mom why...
I grew up in a fairly small town. All of my mother's family lived in the same town and were very involved in each other's lives. Until I graduated from High School, my godmother (and later her husband) made much of me. I was their "baby". E would buy cards for me that were intended for Mothers, and write "God-" in front of the text. I was smart, hard-working, and good. Until I moved away.
University wasn't so bad, only a 45 minute trip down the highway, but it was the beginning of my "out of sight; out of mind" sentence. Then, a couple of years after graduation I decided to move to another province with my boyfriend (eventually husband). I was esentially forgotten as folks on the homefront settled down to their factory jobs and illegitimate children - much more interesting than my budding career and foray into a Masters' degree. My uncle didn't even come to my wedding as it was "too much family crap" for him. My godmother so resented having to travel and the money spent (and I think, resented not being the actual mother of the bride and therefore focus of attention) that she gave me $50 for a wedding present. I give $50 to people I barely know. Quite a fall from favour wouldn't you say?
Now, my grandmother (her mother) was E's best friend. She passed away in 2003 and it was devestating for all of us. This spring, E's husband died. She is lonely and alone. And all of a sudden I'm interesting again. She has called more since Hamet was conceived/born then in the previous 9 years combined. I am not a fan of "fair-weather friends" - and that's what this feels like. So I'm not sure how I will respond to this visit...the fall from my former pedestal was painful, and I am not interested in being dumped again.
Nor am I interested in having E horn in on my mother's role as a grandparent.
Excited and apprehensive; what a lovely combination.
Her sister (E) has also decide to come along - I have mixed feelings about this. My mother's sister is also my godmother. She was 15 when I was born and the baby of her family. Perhaps my mom wanted to include her in the much-anticipated birth of the first grandchild/neice? I've never asked my mom why...
I grew up in a fairly small town. All of my mother's family lived in the same town and were very involved in each other's lives. Until I graduated from High School, my godmother (and later her husband) made much of me. I was their "baby". E would buy cards for me that were intended for Mothers, and write "God-" in front of the text. I was smart, hard-working, and good. Until I moved away.
University wasn't so bad, only a 45 minute trip down the highway, but it was the beginning of my "out of sight; out of mind" sentence. Then, a couple of years after graduation I decided to move to another province with my boyfriend (eventually husband). I was esentially forgotten as folks on the homefront settled down to their factory jobs and illegitimate children - much more interesting than my budding career and foray into a Masters' degree. My uncle didn't even come to my wedding as it was "too much family crap" for him. My godmother so resented having to travel and the money spent (and I think, resented not being the actual mother of the bride and therefore focus of attention) that she gave me $50 for a wedding present. I give $50 to people I barely know. Quite a fall from favour wouldn't you say?
Now, my grandmother (her mother) was E's best friend. She passed away in 2003 and it was devestating for all of us. This spring, E's husband died. She is lonely and alone. And all of a sudden I'm interesting again. She has called more since Hamet was conceived/born then in the previous 9 years combined. I am not a fan of "fair-weather friends" - and that's what this feels like. So I'm not sure how I will respond to this visit...the fall from my former pedestal was painful, and I am not interested in being dumped again.
Nor am I interested in having E horn in on my mother's role as a grandparent.
Excited and apprehensive; what a lovely combination.
Sunday, July 02, 2006
REPRIEVE!!!
We were supposed to head to the in-laws today for a BBQ. My sister-in-law, who is 24, has landed her first real job. Yep, she's building a website and gathering a database of contacts for eco-friendly services in her area. So, we're celebrating....
Woo freakin' hoo. For additional fun, we'll probably open some envelopes and gasp in awe. Don't get me wrong, she's a good person, but a bit of a flake. And I just don't get how my in-laws seem to applaude every move both my sisters-in-law make (and chalk up even the most horrendous mistakes to "at least they had fun", or "it's a learning experience" while ignoring the bone-headedness that got them into the jam in the first place), but are quite dismissive of my husband's achievements.
Oh yes, the reprieve part. Today, it rained. Not surprising considering the weather here lately, but nonetheless. so my mother-in-law decided she didn't want to have a dinner if we couldn't sit outside. Hence, we stayed home.
And after I spent all that time teaching the baby to fake-cough....
(I shouldn't get too excited; we're going tomorrow.)
Woo freakin' hoo. For additional fun, we'll probably open some envelopes and gasp in awe. Don't get me wrong, she's a good person, but a bit of a flake. And I just don't get how my in-laws seem to applaude every move both my sisters-in-law make (and chalk up even the most horrendous mistakes to "at least they had fun", or "it's a learning experience" while ignoring the bone-headedness that got them into the jam in the first place), but are quite dismissive of my husband's achievements.
Oh yes, the reprieve part. Today, it rained. Not surprising considering the weather here lately, but nonetheless. so my mother-in-law decided she didn't want to have a dinner if we couldn't sit outside. Hence, we stayed home.
And after I spent all that time teaching the baby to fake-cough....
(I shouldn't get too excited; we're going tomorrow.)
Saturday, July 01, 2006
So long solitude
And I have to say, I'm not sorry.
Mr. Hammy is a teacher, which means he finished work on Tuesday. And by "finished work" I mean "spent half the day golfing". Does this make anyone else question their choice of careers? Of course, I couldn't have survived (read: the children wouldn't have survived) a Grade 6 classroom for the school year. We all have our strengths.
So, what this means is that I no longer have to pilot this parenting boat by myself during the day. Don't get me wrong, Mr. Hammy is a great Dad - poopy diapers, feeding, bathing; nothing is too yucky as long as he gets to spend time with his boy (they're great to watch together). But, it is hard to be a stay at home Mom. It's far more isolating than you think; social visits require the planning and tactical execution of a hostile takeover. And the person whom you spend the most time with (ie. Hamlet) is a great love, but slightly light-ended on conversation.
This summer as a family will be filled with visits and travel, but hopefully we've left enough time for the three of us to revel in our new family-ness.
First up: My mother arrives on the 8th of July. Oh, and she's bringing her sister (my godmother) which is a mixed bag at best.
All hail Hamlet, the Great Distractor!!!
Mr. Hammy is a teacher, which means he finished work on Tuesday. And by "finished work" I mean "spent half the day golfing". Does this make anyone else question their choice of careers? Of course, I couldn't have survived (read: the children wouldn't have survived) a Grade 6 classroom for the school year. We all have our strengths.
So, what this means is that I no longer have to pilot this parenting boat by myself during the day. Don't get me wrong, Mr. Hammy is a great Dad - poopy diapers, feeding, bathing; nothing is too yucky as long as he gets to spend time with his boy (they're great to watch together). But, it is hard to be a stay at home Mom. It's far more isolating than you think; social visits require the planning and tactical execution of a hostile takeover. And the person whom you spend the most time with (ie. Hamlet) is a great love, but slightly light-ended on conversation.
This summer as a family will be filled with visits and travel, but hopefully we've left enough time for the three of us to revel in our new family-ness.
First up: My mother arrives on the 8th of July. Oh, and she's bringing her sister (my godmother) which is a mixed bag at best.
All hail Hamlet, the Great Distractor!!!
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